


Garrison Centre For Mental Health and Behavioural Sciences

by hopelesswanderlust



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is the best damn nurse in the country, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad Parenting, Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized racism, Langst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Soooo much angst, Texan Keith (Voltron), Therapy, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19416718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelesswanderlust/pseuds/hopelesswanderlust
Summary: Keith just wants to know why the Cuban guy with the bluest eyes even belongs here. Or what he's hiding behind that smile.orKeith and Lance meet in the Psych Ward, of all places.





	Garrison Centre For Mental Health and Behavioural Sciences

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I would like to state that a lot of these insights into the mental health system are ones I pull from my time as a patient as well as a health care professional working in and out of hospitals. It's not all pretty, and a lot of it is a little embellished, but no part of this work is meant to fetishize or romanticize mental illness in any way. And there may be a tonne of discrepencies in comparison to the United States health care system, I'm pulling some specifically from the hospital I've worked with the longest. That being said!! If you ever have questions about the 'psyche ward' that you want answered or criticisms you want to share don't hesitate to DM me! I would love to explain/explore what I've seen, and a lot of this came to me one night as I was processing everything I experienced in the years I've been working in this sector. 
> 
> There's going to be a LOT of deeply problematic mindsets, but know that exploring them is key in order to engaging with recovery. A lot of characters are going to go through some fucked up things, especially as queer people of color growing up in abusive environments. I hope that knowing this going forward, it will be a little easier to understand where I am coming from.
> 
> Content Warning: for mentions of abuse, homophobic slurs, mentions of sexual assault

"Have you ever lived in an environment where your life was majorly impacted by the threat of warfare?"

Keith stared with the most deadpan look he could muster considering he was currently grinding his teeth to nubs to keep the irritation at bay.

"I'm alive aren't I? It's not like I grew up in Afghanistan."

If the triage nurse was capable of chewing and popping bubblegum to demonstrate her immense boredom at the current line of questioning, Keith is sure she would have done it by now. Her name tag was backwards and crooked, and was probably supposed to say Roze but currently looked as if it was spelled 'ezoR,'

Keith privately thought it was the funniest thing he could latch onto, given the situation. If it was 3 AM at Keith's job he probably wouldn't care either.

"Keith," Shiro's mum said warningly. Shiro's mum and dad were flanking Keith's side and pressed shoulder to shoulder in the small intake booth. Outside in the lobby, a man's voice was echoing about how by the grace of God, he had finally made contact with Aliens. That seemed like a much more entertaining discussion than the interview taking place.

"Mr.Kogane, to clarify, have you lived in a physically dangerous environment that has affected your mental health?"

The shack in El Paso with the brutal sandstorms and rattling floorboards came to mind, and disappeared as quickly as they came.

"No," he said quietly, dropping his gaze down to the dried blood flaking off his raw knuckles. It was simultaneously gross and fascinating how the blood congealed and darkened, fluttering to the ground impossibly slow considering the pulsing in his fingers where the skin was raw and exposed, had turned a myriad of colours over the course of the night as his body started the age old healing process. They had already taken the laces from his shoes, stripped him of his jacket. It left him feeling oddly bare in the nearly fluorescent hell he was currently residing in. The overhead lights were so bright Keith could swear his eye balls were already starting to dry up from the stale environment.

The fight went out of him, the course of the events of the day finally drawing away the adrenaline spike. If one eyelid wasn't already bruised and swollen, he would have remarked on the weight behind his eye lids, fighting a losing battle to stay awake.

It's funny, how even on the most draining of nights, the exhaustion never weighed in on him like it did on this night. Sleep was combing it's fingers through his hair, gently urging him to succumb to the bone deep exhaustion.

Ezor, as Keith sardonically dubbed her, snapped her fingers in his face. Ok. Peaceful moment, officially gone.

"Mr. Kogane, I promise that you can get some rest as soon as we finish a few more questions. Please stay awake until then."

Were all hospitals like this? Weren't they supposed to be a little bit nicer?

The rest of the interview went on like that, mind numbingly boring and with Keith nearly nodding off several times, only perking up at the voice of either Shiro's mum or dad chiming in to answer the questions if Keith wasn't fast enough.

After what seemed like hours, the sound of Ezor's typing slowed to a stop.

"Thank you for your patience. The Doctor will be seeing Mr.Kogane privately. If you would like to sit and wait until after the assessment I can direct you to the visitor's canteen."

Ezor barely blinked in Keith's direction as she said this, but it's not like he had been expecting much.

He was going to the Psych Ward after all.

Shiro's mum and dad got up abruptly as if the mention of coffee was what they came here for in the first place. It would be ironic. 'I went to the psych ward and all I got was this free coffee!'

After 6 consecutive hours of waiting and moving from room to room for assessments, Keith considered what action they would take if he just slugged the psychiatrist and saved everyone the headache of processing him.

Keith followed Ezor and her new best friends down the narrow hallway like a zombie, the forgotten pain of his bruised kneecaps making themselves known as each step brought him closer and closer to another failed diagnosis.

"Dr. Smythe will see you now."

The person that entered Keith's field of sight could not have been any more different than what his idea of an armchair psychologist looked like.

The ginger haired man's eyes crinkled when he saw Keith, really smiled, as if he was genuinely happy to see Keith, which obviously wasn't right. And further too him off guard when he said, "My boy! Very nice to meet you. I've heard a lot of things about you,"

"All good things, I hope" Keith drawled, the Southern accent slipping in without his consent. _'You gonna call us city slickers, shack boy?'_

Dr. Smythe smile deepened, as if he thought Keith's response was genuinely funny. "They were definitely something. But I'd rather hear it in your own words."

Ah, there was the kicker. It wasn't enough he had to endure the hours long assessments and tests in the ER, followed by the God awful intake interview. Keith was hoping he wouldn't had to talk at all. This was one of the few times where Keith wishes Shiro's parents had stayed for the interview. They could have done this a lot better at laying down the facts in a clear and succinct way.

_Hello Dr. Smythe, sorry to trouble you. See our foster son is supremely fucked up, and we're tired of trying to fix him._

"I'd prefer not to talk about it." Keith said after an impregnable silence. It was less for dramatic affect and more because he regrets not taking the numerous cops of coffee he was being offered all night. It must be hubris that now of all times, he desperately needs the caffeine.

"Unfortunately, I still got other questions to ask. But in the mean time, mind if I check your vitals?"

Keith nodded silently, eyes trained on a suspicious stain the carpet. Was that dried blood?

Dr. Smythe shined a light into his eyes, took his blood pressure, the whole nine yards, peppering him with safer questions that had Keith's eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open. 

"Looks like you put those hands of yours through the grinder, what's the story there?" Keith felt less bad about his accent slip-ups when there was a note of Australian exaggerated vowels accented on Dr. Smythe's words. 

Knowing it was just the same question from earlier, rephrased, Keith gave up and answered.

"Got into a fight," he said, voice rough with sleep. "you should see the other guy."

"Oh I bet he looks a lot worse for wear," Coran agreed gently grasping Keith's fingers and turning his hand over, inspecting the near purple hand marks formed around his wrists. "but it didn't come from nowhere, did it? 

Dr. Smythe had this comforting way of talking that let Keith feel his energy sapping away away from him as the minutes fluttered past. 

"They said the wrong things to the wrong person. I just went to teach them a lesson," try as he might, he couldn't mask the darkness, the promise of violence in his words. Because they got what was coming to them. Keith didn't have to explain himself to anybody else.

Dr. Smythe quirked up a single brow but betrayed nothing else in his expression to indicate what he thought about Keith's methods. "Must have been some lesson. Did it help?"

Keith could only blink in response, taken aback. Did he hear right? "Sorry?"

The smile of bemusement returned to Dr. Smythe's eyes as he regarded Keith's astonishment. "Do you feel better, having done that?"

Keith nearly spoke, before stopping himself, actually taking the second to think. 

Did it help?

_"Fags like you don't have any other options do they, cowboy?"_

Beyond the bone deep exhaustion, the simmering fury, and the pulsing in his knuckles, Keith felt the same thing he always felt. The stones weighing him down in the pit of his stomach.

The familiar emptiness that followed the roar of blood rushing through his pain, propelling his fists, the grinding of his teeth.

"No," Keith nearly slurred, language beginning to slip away from him. "it didn't do a thing."

Though it probably wouldn't have been appropriate for Dr. Smythe to smile, the kindness remained in his eyes. Keith wanted to drown in that kind of empathy, the kind where your concern for someone besides yourself outweighed whatever you were feeling. He wondered what it must feel like to have that kind of selflessness, to not have to watch your back constantly, knowing someone would always be in your corner.

"Well, you're going to be staying with us for the next few days," Dr. Smythe shuffled the papers he had, Keith could spy a stamped print from the Local Police station, so that definitely sealed his fate. "I'm going to have another talk with you in the next couple days, alright? And Keith, whatever happened-"

"You're safe here. Don't forget that."


End file.
